I think that
They believe
They can hide me
In a box
Forever.

They
"Only
Want
To
Protect
Me."

But it isn't
Protection
When
The surface
Isn't
Permeable.

Nothing gets in
And
Nothing gets out.

And
There isn't
Air to
Breathe.

You were one of those boys
Who I'd known since I was 4,
And who got confirmed in the
Christian faith
Six weeks ago.

One of those boys
Who joked around in class
In a way that made the tescher smile.

One of those boys
Who I was happy to have in my squad
For gym
Because I knew we would win
Team Handball.

He was a guy
Who was completely comfortable
If I referanced second grade,
Even if my memory
Embarrassed him.

Someone who was so happy
To go to highschool
And be on the football team,
And who had already made friends
With all the players.

And he was one of those boys
Who we all knew
Would be the one to score the winning goal.

I thought that he would always be there.
Because boys like Bennett Rill are rare.

It was supposed to be fun.

New school, new supplies,
Thin, neon highlighters glowing inside
Vera Bradley backpacks.

Skinny folders assigned to
Pointless subjects,
Which would be fattened
With pointless homework
By the end of the day.

It was supposed to be fun,
And for a little while, I forgot.

I forgot until History.

The new teacher hadn't lived here
Longer than a week,
Which was why he was
Excited
About teaching.

He had on a brand new tie
From Banana Republic
Which was obviously tied
By his wide eyed fiance.

His classroom was bare, as he explained,
"Don't worry,
I ordered posters yesterday."

The teacher wasn't the problem.

The problem was,
Between Richardson
And Roberts,
He still existed.

At least in the school system he did.

"Ashley Paulette?"
"-Here."
"Abby Richardson?"
"-Here."
"Bennett Rill?"

And my life shattered all over again.

The silence felt
Deafening.

Remembering how he wouldn't be there.
Not ever.

"Bennett Rill?"

The teacher was confused, looking around the room
For someone
Who was buried six feet under.
Someone who the teacher might've thought
Was sick, or vacationing.

It was supposed to be fun.
But then I remembered

"I woke dreaming we had broke
Dreaming you left me for someone new,
And you cried drying those brown eyes
Crying you're sorry, sorry won't do."*

Irony - I hate irony.

breathe in
hold it
everywhere I look
people go about their day
unaware, uncaring
my finger naked
my body exposed
this is my last breath
and no one knows
breathe out

breathe in
hold it
everywhere I look
people go about their lives
unaffected, unknowing
my dreams gone
my heart shattered
this is my last breath
it never really mattered
breathe out

breathe in
hold it
everywhere I look
I see you
unappreciated, unloved
my everything hopeful
my arms open wide
I’d take a million last breaths
to have you by my side
breathe out



breathe in…

hold it.

He glances over his shoulder, asking if I really wanted to know. With a lift of an eyebrow, and a curl of his lips, I lay there, shocked yet again. So many things do those brown eyes hold.
What do my eyes hold?
He is beauty, in male form,
without any clauses,
Yet so unsure
"Am I really as beautiful as you say?
I don't know, am I?
Yes to both,
and yes again.
So many things await
those who know the balance
of when to wait
and when to *Fly....

As you count
The number of
Times the sea
Kisses the shore
I count how many
Freckles I will
Have to kiss
Before my lips and
Your cheeks
Become well
Acquainted

Like the salty breeze
You and your cigarette smoke
Invaded my air
Visions of blue and grey
Sweep my mind blank
I look down to your fingers
Clutching your cross
Teasing god
Along with my thoughts
I whisper your name
Over and over
Like a forgotten rose
I feel your bitter thorns
Bruise my skin
But I let them ***** me again
Hoping that the same breeze that
Brought you to me
Will have the decency to
Let you stay